Tofu
by wujy
Summary: Dennis Creevey brings home a dinner guest that shocks his parents into stunned silence.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated with it in any way.

Note: This is for the 4 of Hearts in the Ring of Fire/King's Cup Challenge by alyssialui on the HPFC forums. This short is brought to you by the following prompts: Dennis Creevey, and "No, this is Patrick."

* * *

><p>Tofu<p>

* * *

><p>Camila Creevey surveyed her son with a certain amount of exasperation. He'd grown up just as she'd expected he might—gangly, thin, and taller than her at only fifteen. He'd shot up in height so quickly that he was awkward with the arrangement of his own limbs, constantly shutting his fingers in doors or leavng his elbows sticking out and bumping them into walls.<p>

Still, he was a good boy, bright and well-adjusted, which was all she could have hoped for, she supposed. He was beginning to grow out of his acne, at last, but apparently not his penchant for getting mud from the garden all over himself. Ever since last year when she'd allowed him a small section of what used to be her flower bed to accomodate his new interest in some of the strangest plants she had ever laid eyes on in her life, he's developed a habit of ruining all the nice clothes he possessed.

She tapped her foot at him, arms folded over her chest and eyebrow raised. Dennis grinned at her, knowing why she was upset, but nothing was ruining his good mood today.

"Sorry, mum," he said, his voice hitting a lower shade than it had the year before. Quick as a flash, he leaned in and planted a muddy peck on her cheek, darting away upstairs before she could stop him.

"Eeh!" she shrieked up the stairs, rubbing at the dirt smudge he'd left on her cheek, but the beginnings of laughter were creeping in behind her ire. "You _fool_ boy," she shouted after him in her I-love-you-but-only-because-I'm-your-mother voice. "You have half an hour before dinner, and your hands had better be _spotless_."

A deep-seated chuckle drifted down the stairs to her and she just shook her head, smiling to herself. She sighed and went to the nearby bathroom to remove the mud streak on her face and reapply the mussed make-up beneath. She did a final spot-check on her hair, making sure it was neat and tidy. Dennis had invited his girlfriend to dinner, and it was the first time she would be meeting the whole family. Camila wanted it to be absolutely perfect.

Satisfied that she looked her best, she returned the kitchen to make the final touches on dinner before their guest arrived. She listened to the sounds of Dennis turning on the shower upstairs and shook her head.

"Hopeless," she said to herself out loud.

"Who's hopeless, 'Mila?"

Her husband wandered in from the living room, dropping the newspaper he'd been reading onto the kitchen counter and lifting a tray with a lid over it to take it into the dining room for her.

"_Your son_," she said.

Mr. Creevey laughed. "He's only _my_ son when he's done something wrong," he said, kissing her on the side of her head quickly before leaving the room once more. Mrs. Creevey smiled to herself reluctantly and followed her husband into the dining room with a stack of dinner plates.

A photo on the wall caught her eye as she was leaving, as it always did. She was standing in the photo with Mr. Creevey, and in front of them were two boys—one with uncontrollable blond hair, and the other with dark hair that had been flattened to his head. She remembered the morning before the portrait had been taken and the trouble she had gone through to get Dennis' hair to behave before giving up and simply slicking it all down. He looked positively ridiculous in the picture, but she'd been so frustrated that day that she hadn't cared.

But, it was the blond boy who still caused a prickle of tears just at the corners of her eyes. She heaved a deep sigh before turning back to the dining room, slipping the casual smile back onto her face.

It had been four years.

She finished setting the places at the table while Mr. Creevey moved the rest of the food in from the kitchen. At four minutes before seven, the doorbell rang, and Dennis' blurred form cleared the stairs in two leaps and ran to answer it.

Camila gave her husband a secretive smile and he chuckled. The sounds of quiet conversation reached them from the hall the led to the door.

"Excited to have her meet the folks, I suppose," he said to her, and she nodded her head.

Footsteps behind her signalled the entrance of Dennis and his guest, so Mrs. Creevey turned to greet the girl, a motherly smile on her face.

Her smile froze in place.

Standing next to her newly-showered son was a young man a few inches shorter than Dennis and just as thin, with dark hair and blue eyes. There were several seconds of complete silence wherein Mrs. Creevey did a superb impression of a statue before Dennis broke the silence.

"Pat, these are my parents," he said, more for his mother's benefit than Pat's.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Creevey," Pat said, and his voice was a melodious tenow. He gave them a genuinely charming smile.

"Pat?" Mrs. Creevey said finally. She cleared her throat and asked in a tone that was a higher pitch than normal, her mouth still stuck in that smile, "Pat... isn't... _Patricia_?"

Dennis looked a little embarrassed and scratched the back of his head. "No," he said slowly, "this is Patrick."

Pat gave Dennis an accusing look, but Dennis was staring at the floor.

"It's good to finally meet you, Pat," Mr. Creevey said cheerfully, crossing to shake the young man's hand. "Dennis has told us all about you."

"Clearly not '_all_' about me," Pat said, giving Dennis a little shove.

"Well, anyway," Mrs. Creevey said, apparently coming out of whatever temporary spell she'd been under and returning to her usual, warm self, "dinner's ready. Why don't you have a seat? Dennis told me you are a vegetarian." She put her arm around Pat's shoulders and threw Dennis a nasty look for what he _hadn't_ told her while guiding Pat to his seat.

"I hope it's all right," she said. "I've never prepared tofu before."


End file.
